Hour Glass

What is this life
but that of the sand
released willingly,
over and over again,
gravity having her way
with each grain
until nothingness is filled,
bottom to top,
with the spaces that will become
nothing again?

Waiting for your love is like this release
of the dunes of a lifetime--
shifting with anticipation,
the shimmering mirage of the Oasis.

I put one breath
in front of the other.

In the heat under these sandals
my feet burn crossing the waves
of suffering and longing,
desire for the moisture of cool waters
at the edge of this desert,
wanting my thirst to be quenched
by the patience of the journey.

My lips will drink you in.
This throat will be restored by the ultimate
compassion of this love you have given.

The truth of this passage,
from one full life into nothingness,
is that I trust myself here
in our gentle exchange,
the knowledge of one thousand lovers,
the ease with which I take you in,
to bathe myself in the ambrosia of your face,
the patterns of your skin.

I plunge my hands deep
into the granules of sand
and watch you slip into emptiness,
only to catch the glassy grains
of your body in my other hand,
waiting greedily to hold you
just as full as her sister
hovering above, unable to hold anything—
never permanent,
always changing
and turning like the hour glass
marking the time
of endless love.